Legolas in Mandos
by Fiondil
Summary: Aragorn is on a mission to save more than Legolas' life... he has to also save his own and when the Lord of Mandos plays for souls he takes no prisoners. A two-part story describing Legolas' 'death' and its aftermath.
1. Chapter 1

**1: Playing Chess With Lord Námo**

**Author's Note: **I have substituted the normal notation used in chess with their Elvish equivalents. Thus, the squares going across that are labeled A-H are_ tinco, parma, calma, quessë, ando, umbar, anga _and _ungwë, _respectively. The squares going up and down and numbered 1-8 are _min, tâd, neled, canad, leben, eneg, odog, _and _toloth, _respectively. The POV in chess is from the one playing white. Since the players are speaking Sindarin, they use the Sindarin form of the numbers, but traditionally, the tengwar were referred to by their Quenya names regardless of which language was being used.

The Sindarin names of the chess pieces and other chess terms used in the story are as follows:

_Aran: _king

_Bereth: _queen

_Arannûr: _steward, literally, "king's servant" (bishop)

_Rochben: _horseman (knight)

_Barad: _tower (castle, rook)

_Maethor: _warrior (pawn)

_Vaba: _lenited form of _maba: _captures

_Tafnen: _check, literally, "stopped"

_Aran gwann: _checkmate, literally "the king is dead" our English word _checkmate _comes from Old French _echec mat_, ultimately from Persian _shah mat_, "the king is dead"

0-0-0-0

"Excuse me?"

Maranwë, Chief Maia to Námo, Lord of Mandos, and Doomsman of Arda, schooled his expression to one of indifference and toned down his aura, not wishing to laugh in his lord's face, yet secretly reveling at seeing the usually imperturbable Singer of What Will Be so... so... flummoxed... yes that was the word.

"It is as I said, Lord," Maranwë said, speaking carefully. "The King of Gondor and Arnor is before the Gates of Mandos demanding entrance."

For a long moment Námo just stood there, his expression becoming unreadable even to his closest advisor. Then the Lord of Mandos gave Maranwë a grin which the Maia could only describe as 'wicked'. "Please extend our apologies to His Majesty," Námo said formally, "and say that we are not receiving visitors at this time and would he care to return in... oh, eighty years or so."

Maranwë was hard-pressed not to start laughing. "But he is not asking for admittance for himself, Lord," he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "He's imitating his ancestress Lúthien."

Námo raised an eyebrow at that revelation. "You mean..."

Maranwë nodded. "He's demanding his elf back."

Námo shook his head, closed his eyes, and uttered a few choice phrases in Valarin that caused Maranwë's eyebrows to nearly disappear into his hair.

"We'll see about that," Námo uttered darkly as he gestured for Maranwë to precede him down the hallway towards the front gates of Mandos.

Aragorn Elessar Telcontar, High King of Gondor and Arnor, was not amused. He gave the mithril and gold gates of the Halls of Mandos one last pounding and then stopped and stepped back, his posture one of defiance and anger.

"Damn you, Legolas!" he fairly screamed. "You come back here you... you... impossible elf, you!"

"Tsk, tsk, Estel. Such language."

Aragorn stopped his ranting and felt a frisson of something that was less than fear but more than joy coursing through his body and slowly turned around. Standing behind him was a Being, taller than he. He was dressed in a knee-length tunic of nubbed wool dyed a midnight blue with silver embroidery of harts chasing one another. Under this was a figured silk shirt of pale green, embroidered at the cuffs with an intricate knotwork pattern in silver thread. Over this was a sleeveless robe of forest green brocade that brushed the top of his calf-high black leather boots. The robe was trimmed with red fox fur around the neck, along the open front and hem. The arm openings, which went nearly to his hips were also trimmed with fur. His leggings were unbleached suede leather tucked into the boots. His blue-black hair was long and braided elf-fashion, the gems of his front braids glittering in the light that was everywhere and nowhere. On his head he wore a mithril-wrought coronet with a single pigeon-egg ruby in the center. A mithril-linked pendant of the Sun-in-Eclipse graced his neck and a belt of tooled leather was around his waist, its buckle a twin to the pendant. He was smiling, though that didn't necessarily assure the Mortal standing there with his mouth open. Slowly, Aragorn found himself on his knees before the Lord of Mandos.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, son?" Námo said genially. "I think the last time was with Wídfara... or was that the time before?... I forget." His smile turned even more wicked than when he'd been speaking to Maranwë and the Lord of Mandos had the pleasure of seeing the King of Gondor and Arnor start sweating. Which, come to think about it, was a neat trick when said king was here in fëa only.

"Oh do get up, Estel," Námo continued with mock impatience, gesturing for the Mortal to rise. "I really don't have time for all this, you know."

"I've come to..."

"I know why you've come, child, and the answer is 'no'."

Aragorn blinked. "Why..."

"He died, Estel. Plain and simple," Námo said, sounding less impatient and more sympathetic. "He's already passed through Judgment and now sleeps. When he awakens he'll have no memory of his life in Middle-earth, not until he is released from here and is again re-embodied."

Aragorn shook his head in disbelief. "No... it's not been long enough," he protested. "I only just got here. I saw him passing through the gates. I almost caught up with him..."

"Estel," Námo interrupted, reaching out and taking Aragorn into his embrace to offer whatever comfort the Mortal would accept from him. "It's too late. Time runs differently here than in Middle-earth. Trust me. Legolas is safe and he is no longer in pain. Let him go, child. Return to your proper place and mourn, but know that Legolas is well and will someday be restored to his family and friends."

"Not to all," Aragorn insisted as he pulled himself out of Námo's embrace, his expression a mixture of grief and anger. "Not to all," he repeated, more softly.

"No, not to all," Námo agreed compassionately.

"And Gimli..."

"Ah, yes, Gimli."

"I'll fight you for him," Aragorn said suddenly.

Námo gave him a disbelieving look. "Excuse me?"

Aragorn was now nodding enthusiastically. "I'll fight you for Legolas' fëa. If I win, we both go back and if I lose, I go back alone."

Námo found himself intrigued in spite of himself. Truly, these Children were endlessly delightful and full of surprises. "And if I refuse, what then, Edainion?"

Aragorn hesitated, now unsure before the implacable gaze of the Lord of Mandos. Námo nodded, sure that he had gotten his point across to this admirable Mortal. He could see Lúthien gazing back at him through the king's eyes.

"What contest could you hope to best me in?" Námo then asked mildly. "I, who am a Vala, one who danced before the Throne of Ilúvatar."

Aragorn frowned, then sighed in resignation, realizing the futility of his challenge, yet unwilling to back down. "I cannot go back with out him, Lord," he pleaded. "Thranduil..."

Námo's eyes narrowed. "Yes, Thranduil," he said darkly and Aragorn found himself shivering in spite of himself. "Always a force to be reckoned with," Námo added. Then, he came to a decision and his visage lightened towards something closer to humor. "Very well, Isildurchil," the Vala said. "But as you issued the challenge, I get to choose the weapons and the venue."

Now Aragorn gave the Vala a wary look but nodded in agreement, silently berating himself for stepping into what he was sure was a trap. Námo sent a brief thought to Manwë and heard the amused laughter of the Elder King in his mind.

We will see that you and he are undisturbed, my brother, came the thought from Ilmarin.

"Yes," Námo said almost musingly. "I will choose the weapons and the field of battle."

Aragorn, deciding he had nothing to lose, asked a question. "May I see him?"

Námo gave the Mortal an indecipherable look. "Yes, thou mayest," he said formally, "but in this I warn thee: speak to him not, for if thou dost, he will be returned unto my care and thou shalt return unto Life without him, even shouldst thou win against me in our contest."

The King of Gondor and Arnor nodded his understanding and acceptance and then suddenly they were no longer before the mithril and gold gates of Mandos but in a grassy arena surrounded by fourteen thrones and Aragorn son of Arathorn felt his very soul shrivel in fear, recognizing where they were.

Námo gave him a compassionate look. "Fear not, child! Thou art not in any danger of Judgment. This is merely a most convenient venue for our little competition. None will disturb us here. The Elder King has decreed it so."

Aragorn looked more relieved but his expression was still wary, for he did not know what this contest he had so foolishly demanded of the Lord of Mandos would entail. Then all thoughts of this were driven from his mind as suddenly Legolas was there, standing next to Námo, his expression blank.

Almost he spoke his friend's name out loud, but stopped himself in time, remembering Námo's admonition. Aragorn noticed that, unlike himself, Legolas stood in naked fëa. Even his locks were bare of their warrior braids with their gems and beads. The dark golden hair hung loose and free nearly to his waist. The King of Men gave the Vala a worried look.

"What's wrong with him, Lord?" he asked.

Námo smiled, placing an arm around Legolas' shoulders. "Nothing, child," he answered. "As I told you, Legolas has already undergone Judgment and should be sleeping now. His memories are slowly being... suppressed for a time, that he not be overburdened with memories of pain and guilt. Even now, he has forgotten much about his life, though the process will take some time. I suspect that you will have already left the Circles of Arda before he awakens and joins the other fëar in the Halls of Waiting where he will spend more time learning innocence once again."

"Will he remember when he goes back with me?" Aragorn demanded.

Námo forced himself not to smile at the choice of words. Aragorn might not know what the contest would entail but he was confident of winning or at least hopeful of doing so for his friend's sake.

"Yes," he replied. "_If _you win," stressing the first word, "all of Legolas' memories will be restored to him. Have no fear on that score. Now, shall we get on with this? You are disrupting my schedule. My secretary is most put out by it as you failed to make a proper appointment."

This was said with such blandness that Aragorn was taken aback and was unsure how to respond, though he felt himself reddening with embarrassment. He did not trust himself to speak, only nodding.

"Let us begin then," Námo intoned and then the most amazing thing happened.

Námo gestured and an oversized board of alternating squares of inlaid obsidian and pearl floated before them. There were figures on the board, half carved from what Aragorn recognized as white opal and the other half from onyx. It was a chessboard.

"We're playing chess?" Aragorn asked, realizing even as he spoke how stupid he sounded.

"A royal game of wits," Námo said with a nod, "demanding keen insight and a sound sense of strategy. A worthy contest, think you not?"

"Yes."

"Good," the Vala said with false cheer. "And to make the contest even more interesting for me, if not for you, I think we should change the stakes a bit."

Aragorn gave the Lord of Mandos a wary look. "What do you mean?"

Instead of answering right off, Námo gestured again and two ornately carved chairs appeared and he indicated that Aragorn should take one. Without thinking about it, he sat in the chair behind the white pieces. Námo hid a smile as he took the other chair. Legolas he silently directed to sit between them on a stool. Aragorn was glancing idly at the board as he sat and stifled a gasp, for it seemed to him that as he gazed upon it a mist formed in its center and when it cleared he could see himself kneeling over the body of his dearest friend, while all around him a battle raged.

"What..."

"That is what is happening around you even as you are here seeking for your friend's release," Námo said gravely. "Your men and the elves of Ithilien are fighting hard to protect the two of you as you continue working over Legolas. That, however, may not last."

Aragorn looked up at Námo and saw how the Vala's slate-grey eyes had gone dark, sending a frisson of fear down his spine.

"So, these are the stakes," Námo continued solemnly. "If you win, you and Legolas return to Middle-earth and all is well. If you lose, however..." Here he paused and the smile that crept across his visage was not pleasant. "If you lose, I get to keep you both."

"What?" Aragorn nearly shouted, rising to his feet in shock.

Námo nodded. "If you lose, child, you both die," he repeated. "This game will be for more than just Legolas' fëa, it will be also for yours. If you lose, Eldarion becomes the next King of Gondor and Arnor, somewhat earlier than expected, but..."

Aragorn sat down heavily, still reeling from shock at the implications of the Vala's words. "And Arwen..." he whispered.

"And Arwen will follow you into death," Námo said quietly. "I will grant you this one mercy, son of Arathorn: I will allow you to wait for her to come to you so you may leave the Circles of Arda together."

"What if I choose not to play?" Aragorn asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Námo shrugged. "Then you go back to Middle-earth alone and Legolas remains here with me." He paused for several minutes to allow Aragorn time to assimilate all this before speaking again. "So what will it be, Estel? Dost thou accept the stakes, or wilt thou return to thy proper sphere without thy friend, yet knowing that he is safe and will return unto Life when the time is mete for him to do so?"

Aragorn looked up at the Lord of Mandos and Námo saw Lúthien looking back at him again. Even before the King of Gondor and Arnor spoke, the Vala already knew what answer he would give and was pleased. "Lord, play thy game."

"As you have chosen white, you should make the first move," Námo stated, settling back into his chair, curious to see how this would end.

Aragorn nodded and started to reach for his first piece, but Námo stayed him with a gesture. "We will allow Legolas to help us. Merely state your move and Legolas will move the pieces for us."

Aragorn gave the elf a sideways look. Legolas did not respond, merely staring straight ahead. Then he looked to Námo who merely raised an eyebrow. The Mortal sighed and leaned back with a nod. "Maethor aran ando canad."

Legolas, his eyes still unfocused, reached over and deftly moved the warrior before Aragorn's king forward two squares. Námo nodded and stated his own move. "Maethor aran ando leben."

Again, Legolas reached over and moved the stated piece the required number of squares. While Aragorn contemplated his next move, Námo addressed him. "So, just how did you and Legolas come to this?"

Aragorn gave Námo a surprised look. "But do you not know, Lord?" he asked in confusion. "Surely Legolas would have told you."

"Yes," Námo said with a nod, "but I'm interested in hearing your version of the events."

For a long moment Aragorn did not speak, merely stealing another glance at his friend sitting silently and unaware before returning his attention to the board. "It was stupid really, what happened." He sighed. "We received word that agents out of Khand were moving through Mordor inciting the former slaves who now live around the Sea of Nurnen to rise up against Gondor. It is not a rich land, but I have done what I can to alleviate their plight and better their lives."

Námo nodded, well aware of this. "Go on," was his only comment.

Aragorn grimaced. "The army consisted mostly of Khandian soldiers and malcontents from Harad and Umbar; the rest were the few from the settlements in southern Mordor who had bothered to listen to the agents' diatribes against Gondor and me in particular. I asked Legolas to join me and he came with a contingent of his wood elves. Faramir joined us with his own rangers. I was determined to put the rebellion down as quickly as possible and punish the ringleaders but had no intention of punishing anyone else." He gave Námo a steady look. "I still intend to do that howsoever this game ends. Umbar canad," Aragorn directed towards Legolas, who then moved the warrior before the king's steward two squares.

Námo raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Maethor vaba umbar canad."

Legolas dutifully moved the black warrior and removed Aragorn's piece so that now their two warriors were side-by-side. Aragorn made his next move almost at once. "Arannûr calma canad."

Before Legolas was finished moving the king's steward diagonally across the board three squares, Námo stated his move. "Bereth ungwë canad tafnen."

Aragorn evinced surprise at the move, giving the Lord of Mandos a measured look that nonetheless gave nothing away as Legolas moved Námo's queen diagonally onto the board. Námo merely sat there with an amused smile. Now Aragorn concentrated more fully on the board though he already knew what move he would make.

"Aran umbar min," he said and Legolas moved the king one square to the right, thus moving the piece out of check.

"Parma leben," Námo then said, almost negligently. Now Aragorn's steward was in danger of capture. "So what happened?" the Lord of Mandos asked while Aragorn studied the board and his options.

Aragorn actually reddened in embarrassment and cringed slightly. Námo merely placed his left elbow on the armrest and his chin in his left hand, contemplating the Mortal sitting across from him, thoroughly enjoying himself at Aragorn's expense.

_You're being naughty, _he heard Vairë chide him with a laugh. _You know you're going to let the dear child win._

_I don't know anything of the sort,_ Námo shot back with mock affront. _And even if I did, he couldn't help adding, I'm going to make him work for it._

Tulkas offered his own comment. _Tell him that Legolas' death would have been avoided if he'd just kept his mouth shut. That should make him feel even more guilty than he already does._

_And what would that accomplish?_ Námo asked with mild amusement.

_Nothing much,_ Tulkas admitted and Námo could almost see his brother's shrug. _But it would be amusing to see just how red his face can turn._

Now several Valar and a few Maiar started laughing.

_I trust you will not let him suffer too much, my lord,_ Námo heard Olórin say. _He is a good Man and worthy of our respect._

Námo smiled, though Aragorn did not see it. _If I did not have as much respect for him as I do, Olórin, I would not be wasting my time playing this game. I would have simply handed Legolas over to him. Accepting his challenge was my way of honoring him and Legolas. Such devotion between these two friends should not go unrewarded. Legolas never blamed Aragorn for what happened, however embarrassing it was for them both._

There were nods all around and more than one Vala and Maia looked in on the game with interest.

"Arannûr vaba parma leben," Aragorn said, unaware of the silent conversation going on around him. He shifted his position a bit and made himself more comfortable. "What happened is that I killed my friend," he stated baldly.

His tone was such that Námo, who was about to utter his next move, stopped and gave him a considering look. "Legolas never blamed you," he said quietly. "If anything, he blamed himself."

Aragorn gave him a disbelieving look. "How could he blame himself? I'm the one who..." He scowled and looked upon his unseeing friend with great sorrow and regret. Námo could see how much the Mortal wished to apologize to Legolas but remembering the strictures of the game forbore to speak, biting his lips.

"Rochben umbar eneg," Námo said quietly and Legolas reached over to move the king's horseman out onto the board. "Tell me why you think you killed your friend."

For a moment Aragorn merely stared at the board, then he took up his tale again. "In spite of the fact that it's nearly Yule, I decided to take the war to the Khandians rather than wait for them to attack. My spies had informed me that the rebel army was planning to take the southern pass in the Ephel Dúath through which the River Poros flows. They meant to cross the ford and attack South Ithilien. I intended to meet them in the pass and stop them before they reached the ford..."

_It was snowing in the pass, for the mountains, as far south as they were, were high enough. There was little shelter, though a stand of evergreen trees did give them some relief from the wind. The elves stood around on guard, seemingly unaffected by the weather, while Aragorn, Faramir and their men all huddled in their cloaks. Aragorn was beginning to regret his decision to meet the invaders in the pass. As strategies went, this was not one of his brightest and he was glad his brothers were not there to point out all the flaws in his plans._

"_I'm glad Gimli isn't here," Legolas said suddenly with a smile, as if he had been reading the king's mind._

"_Oh?" was all Aragorn could manage._

_The elven Prince nodded, his smile widening. "He'll be too busy telling us all how daft we are to be of any use when the enemy attacks."_

_Aragorn found himself grinning in spite of himself, thankful for Legolas' bit of levity. "This is a stupid idea..."_

"_Nay, Aragorn," Legolas said, his mien becoming more solemn. "It is best we end this now before it escalates into something more than a few hundred malcontents wishing to make trouble."_

_Aragorn nodded and was about to comment, when one of Legolas' scouts came silently across the snowfield, leaving no trace. "They come," he said and at a wordless signal the Men and Elves readied themselves for battle..._

"Calma vaba parma leben," Námo said.

Aragorn stopped his narrative to give the board a glance as Legolas removed his steward taken by one of Námo's warriors. They had continued playing even as he had told his story and now Námo had just captured his steward. In spite of the fact that several of his warriors were on the board, leaving his king somewhat exposed, Aragorn felt confident that the king was ably protected by the tower that now stood beside it. With one move he could hem in Námo's queen even more than it already was. The Lord of Mandos, he realized, had made a mistake in releasing his queen into play so soon without first seeking to control the center.

"Ungwë canad," Aragorn said, thus instructing Legolas to move a warrior forward, so as to threaten Námo's queen.

Námo moved his queen back another square out of danger, but Aragorn pressed the attack and moved the same warrior forward another square. Again, Námo moved the queen forward one square. It was the only safe place for her. Taking Aragorn's warrior would not have worked in the long run. At that point Aragorn decided it was time to play his own queen.

"Bereth umbar neled," he instructed Legolas and the silent elf complied.

"Rochen anga toloth," Námo said, thus sending his horseman back to its original position.

"Arannûr vaba umbar canad," Aragorn declared almost before Legolas had time to follow Námo's instructions.

Legolas moved Aragorn's remaining steward, removing the warrior protecting Námo's queen, leaving her vulnerable. It did not take Námo long to make a decision and he told Legolas to move his queen one square on the diagonal back towards the queen's own square. Aragorn sat contemplating the board.

"So you were saying?" Námo asked, attempting to prod the Mortal to continue his tale.

"We held the pass itself," Aragorn responded, "for we had gotten there before them. We had the advantage of ground, but the weather made that problematic..."

_Aragorn, Legolas and Faramir moved out of the protection of the trees and climbed towards the top of the pass. The snow had not let up and the wind was now swirling it round, making seeing difficult, even for the elves, though they would not have admitted it to these Mortals, Aragorn knew. Eyesight might have been hindered, but not hearing._

"_They're coming up along both sides of the path itself," Legolas said quietly to Aragorn. "I do not know why the path itself is being ignored."_

_It did not take them long to discover the reason. Dark shapes began to form just below them, struggling along either side of the actual path leading into the pass and on the path between them..._

"_Valar!" Faramir exclaimed softly. "Are they insane or just stupid?"_

_That, of course, was a very good question, as far as Aragorn was concerned. The Khandians were hauling a massive block of wood that was obviously meant to be used to break down the gates of Minas Anor. It was something like Grond, Aragorn mused, though smaller. It was strapped to a wooden frame on runners and was being pulled by ropes._

"_Did your people see any scouts?" Aragorn asked both Legolas and Faramir and they both shook their heads._

"_We wondered about that," Faramir answered. "We could not understand why the pass wasn't being checked to see if it were clear. Now we know why."_

"_Their arrogance and stupidity will be their downfall," Aragorn said with a nod. He was about to_ _issue his first order when a horrendous screech rent the air above them. It had been forty or so years since any had heard that terrifying sound and they all ducked instinctively._

"_Nazgûl!" someone nearby screamed._

"_Nay!" Legolas shouted above the sound of terror, "for they are no more, but it is one of their fell winged creatures."_

_Then out of the swirling snow a terrible monster flew towards them and they all began to scatter. Aragorn suddenly realized why the Khandians had not bothered with any scouts. As they were running towards the stand of trees and shrubs that huddled off the path some hundred yards further down the mountain, Aragorn looked back and he felt his blood freeze with horror._

"_Legolas! Watch out!," he screamed..._

"Bereth vaba tinco min tefnen," Námo said calmly, interrupting Aragorn's narrative with the capture of a tower, putting Aragorn's king in check for the second time.

The King of Gondor and Arnor took a deep breath and studied the board more carefully to make sure he hadn't made any mistake in strategy.

_He's a very good player,_ Manwë said to Námo as they watched the Mortal consider his next move, _and an able strategist._

Námo agreed silently. _He believes that what happened next was totally his fault and his flawed thinking led to the disaster which followed._

_I hope you will teach him otherwise, brother,_ Tulkas said.

_Not I,_ Námo countered. _Legolas._

_Ah..._ Oromë said, his voice full of approval. _A good strategy, brother._

Námo smiled to himself. I_ learned from the best,_ he said, bowing mentally to Oromë and Tulkas, both of whom chuckled.

"Aran ando tâd," Aragorn said.

Námo nodded. "Arannûr vaba anga min."

Legolas moved Aragorn's king diagonally to Aragorn's left, then brought Námo's steward down to capture Aragorn's other tower. So far, Námo had captured five of Aragorn's pieces, including both towers and a steward, greatly diminishing the Mortal's strength. Nineteen moves into the game, Aragorn had only managed to capture two of Námo's pieces, both lowly warriors. Other than the queen, Aragorn's only power pieces were the two horsemen and the remaining steward.

"Ando leben," Aragorn finally said and now a warrior stood between his two horsemen.

"Rochben tinco min." Námo made his move and the horseman that had yet to be played was moved out.

"Rochben vab' anga odog tafnen." Now Aragorn was on the move, capturing another warrior with his own horseman and putting Námo's king in check for the first time.

"Aran quessë toloth," Námo decided, moving his king one square to his right. "So now we are getting to the end of your tale, I think," he said, giving Aragorn a wry grin, well aware what had happened.

Aragorn reddened slightly and sighed. "I turned around and saw that Legolas had stopped to shoot at the winged monster bearing down upon us. I shouted for him to watch out..."

_At Aragorn's shout, Legolas started, his arrow missing its mark, though it did hit the creature, just not where it would have done the most damage. Then to Aragorn's horror, the elf, in attempting to avoid the beast's gaping jaws, appeared to trip backwards over something unseen in the snow and start rolling down the mountainside, gathering speed._

"_Legolas!" he screamed again, trying to reach his friend while avoiding the flying horror at the same time. All around him elves and men were attempting to bring down the creature even as the Khandians were reaching the peak of the pass and preparing to join the fight. Aragorn ran after Legolas who was still careening down the mountainside at a fast clip, tumbling head over heels. Then the elf hit a snowbank and went up into the air, twisting a bit before falling into a stand of trees and shrubs._

_Aragorn heard a strangled scream coming from the holt and ran as quickly as he could through the snow, finally reaching the place where his friend had landed. He stopped in horror when he saw that Legolas had impaled himself on a broken tree branch. From the way the tree in question was rocking back and forth, it appeared not to be any happier about the situation than the elf hanging there. He was looking down at the offending branch with a peculiar expression on his face. Then Legolas glanced up at Aragorn._

"_Valar!" he whispered in surprise, "That hurts!" ..._

Námo fought hard not to laugh at Aragorn's expression of embarrassment in relating the ignoble manner of his friend's death. "Let me get this straight," he said with a much calm as if he were discussing the state of the weather on Taniquetil, "a wood-elf skewers himself on a... tree?"

Aragorn glanced at Legolas who still sat there with his blank stare and nodded. "And it's all my fault."

"Probably," Námo said with great equanimity. "Your move, by the way."

Aragorn sighed, rubbed his hand across his face and pinched the bridge of his nose before taking another look at the board. His confession of being the chief cause of his friend's death had not relieved him of his sense of guilt and remorse and he wondered if he would ever be able to forgive himself. A moot point, he thought, if he did not win this game. He took a long hard look at all his options and then he saw it. He gave the Lord of Mandos a surreptitious glance then lowered his eyes back to the board, schooling his features to imitate stone. Námo watched with faint amusement.

_He's figured it out, hasn't he?_ Varda asked, sounding both amused and please.

_Yes,_ Námo said, feeling equally pleased, _he has._

"Bereth umbar eneg tefnen," Aragorn said, then practically held his breath as Legolas moved his queen in position to check Námo's king a second time.

The Lord of Mandos made a show of examining the board with as much care as Aragorn had just done, all the while continuing the conversation with his fellow Valar.

_How do you intend to... er... heal Legolas of his wound?_ Irmo asked out of professional curiosity. _It was, after all, quite fatal. The only one who doesn't seem to accept that is the Mortal sitting across from you. Even Legolas allowed that it was an accident and that nothing could have saved him._

_I was hoping you or Estë might have some suggestions about that,_ Námo said even as he gave Legolas his instructions. "Rochben vaba umbar eneg."

Legolas dutifully reached over and moved the horseman so as to take Aragorn's queen.

_Already working on it, brother,_ Irmo replied.

Aragorn stared at the Lord of Mandos for the longest time before stating his final move, never taking his eyes off Námo. "Arannûr and' odog... aran gwann."

Silence reigned across the Máhanaxar for several minutes and then Aragorn heard clapping, faint at first, but slowly getting louder. He looked about and slowly rose in awe as he realized that thirteen of the thrones that ringed the area were occupied and their occupants were the ones applauding. The King of Gondor and Arnor, of the blood of Lúthien and Beren, Eärendil and Elwing, swayed in shock and Námo was quickly at his side.

"Be at peace, child," he whispered encouragingly as the applause faded along with the Valar themselves, "all is well. Time to return to your proper sphere."

Aragorn looked up at Námo. "Legolas..."

"When you return to Middle-earth you will deal with what you find there. As I promised, Legolas will be returned to you."

Aragorn looked over at his friend sitting calmly and unaware, his expression becoming one of grief. "He's dead, isn't he?" he asked. "Truly dead. The wound... I knew it was fatal and I could see in his eyes that he knew it as well, but I couldn't accept it. Even as I struggled to save him, I knew it was hopeless." He stopped, tears running down his cheeks. "I looked into his eyes and it was as if I were back on Amon Hen and it was Boromir dying..."

"Hush now, child," Námo chided Aragorn gently. "You cannot save him, but I promise he will be healed, but only if you go back now. Look you." He pointed towards the chessboard and a mist seemed to gather above it and then clear, revealing the same battle scene Aragorn had seen earlier but now he saw that Faramir and several other Rangers had managed to bring the flying creature down while the elves were still ranged around their fallen prince and the king.

"Time to go back, Estel," Námo repeated. "Time to return to your people."

Before Aragorn could protest he felt his fëa being drawn away back into his mortal frame. "Legolas!" he screamed even as the vision of his friend standing next to the Lord of Mandos faded from his eyes and he found himself back in Middle-earth looking down on the bloody body of the elven prince. All around was chaos as his troops continued to fight the Khandians. Thankfully, the snow had ceased to fall while he had been... elsewhere and the wind had died as well. Indeed, the sun was even now peeking out from behind clouds that were beginning to break apart.

Aragorn continued to kneel before his friend wondering at the fact that what had felt like hours while he had played chess with the Lord of Mandos had only taken a few short minutes. In spite of everything, Aragorn could tell from the sound of Faramir issuing orders that the Gondorian army had the upper hand and was even now overwhelming the rebel army. It didn't matter, though. All that mattered was Legolas lying lifeless in the snow. He wondered if the Lord of Mandos would truly release the elven prince and how ever would he heal him of his most fatal wound.

Even as these thoughts ran through his mind, above the sounds of battle, he heard the jingling of harness bells and the neigh of an approaching horse. Aragorn looked up to see the wood elves who were still guarding him and Legolas open up a space, their expressions ones of awe. The Dúnadan found himself rising in awe as well.

"Glorfindel?" he asked in disbelief.

And so it was. There was Asfaloth, gleaming whiter than the snow. Upon him sat the elf-lord dressed, somewhat incongruously, in an ankle-length hooded robe of deep scarlet trimmed with white rabbit fur. Beneath this he wore a surcoat slit for riding that was a deep forest green brocade with a diaper pattern of stars and scallop shells. His leggings were suede dyed a dark yellow and tucked into black leather boots. The shirt that showed at the neck and wrists was of white lawn embroidered in an intricate knotwork pattern of greens and gold. When the elf pulled down his hood they could see he was wearing a wreath of ivy, holly and winterberries.

Glorfindel smiled down at the Mortal. "Greetings, Estel. I see I've arrived just in time."

"In time? In time for what?" Aragorn exclaimed. "He's dead, Glorfindel. I tried to save him. I thought I had saved him, but..."

"Tush, child," the elf-lord said as he dismounted from his steed and went to embrace the king. "All is not lost."

"Why are you here, Glorfindel?" Aragorn asked. "How did you get here in the first place? You should be in Imladris."

"And so I was, but I had a... feeling that I was needed here so I left Imladris two weeks ago."

"Two weeks! You covered the distance between Imladris and here in two weeks?" Aragorn stared at his friend and mentor in awe and noticed that some of the wood elves were doing the same.

"Actually I made it to Minas Anor in ten days," Glorfindel corrected with a smile. "But, let us not concern ourselves with that. Legolas needs attention." Saying that, he knelt beside the still body of the elven prince, and shook his head in amazement, taking in the evidence of the cause of Legolas' death even as he examined the elven prince's body. "How is it that a wood elf allows himself to be skewered on a tree branch?"

"I'm sure Legolas didn't set out to do it on purpose," Aragorn muttered in frustration.

Glorfindel gave the Mortal a brilliant smile and then reached into an inner pocket of his robe and pulled out a mithril bound leather flask, handing it to Aragorn. "When I tell you, give this to Legolas to drink."

"But..."

Glorfindel shook his head, then laid his hands on the open wound, closing his eyes. Quietly he began to Sing and the hairs on Aragorn's head rose in shock at the Power behind the Song. All went still as the elf-lord continued Singing. Then, as Aragorn watched, it seemed to him that Others were there. There was nothing to see, but he felt Them and they seemed to be lending their own Power to the elf-lord kneeling beside him.

The Song continued to grow and then Aragorn gasped as he saw the gaping wound begin to close of itself. As Glorfindel's Song came to a final triumphant note, they saw Legolas' body arch and then he started breathing again, though he did not regain consciousness.

"Now, Estel," Glorfindel commanded.

Aragorn belatedly remembered the flask in his hands and swiftly unstopping it, raised Legolas' head as he pressed the flask to his blue lips and had the pleasure of seeing the still unconscious elf swallow.

"All of it," Glorfindel said and Aragorn continued to administer the drink to his friend until the flask was empty.

As he laid Legolas back down, the wounded elf's eyes fluttered open. He seemed to focus on Aragorn and Glorfindel, recognized them and smiled before falling back to sleep. Only then did Aragorn sense the Others fading, though not before feeling the brush of a hand on his brow in benediction. Glorfindel began to remove his scarlet robe.

"Let's get him wrapped in this," he said.

"Nice coat, by the way," Aragorn said as he helped Glorfindel bundle Legolas into it.

Glorfindel gave him a knowing smile. "Arwen seemed to have had her own prescient moment, for she pushed this on me just as I was about to leave Minas Anor, saying it would come in handy." He gave a merry laugh. "I think it's meant to be your Yule gift."

Aragorn gave the elf-lord a shocked look, then grinned at the thought. Soon he was laughing as well. Faramir approached just then to report that the survivors among the Khandian army had surrendered.

"None of our people were seriously hurt," Faramir concluded, glancing down at the still sleeping elf. "At least almost none," he amended.

Glorfindel and Aragorn nodded. Then the Dúnadan gave Glorfindel a deep bow of gratitude. "Thank you, mellon nîn. Thank you for Legolas' life."

"The pleasure was all mine, Estel," Glorfindel smiled warmly, holding Aragorn's face between his hands and kissing him on the brow.

"So what's with the wreath?" Aragorn then asked, giving the elf a questioning look.

"Why, Estel, it's Yule!" Glorfindel exclaimed laughingly. "Should I not wear something festive for the occasion?" Then before anyone could reply to that, the Reborn elf-lord began singing a joyous hymn to Elbereth. Soon all the elves and the Gondorians joined in and everyone was glad.

0-0-0-0

Everyone, that is, save the Khandians.

_Edainion: _(Sindarin) Scion of the Edain.

_Isildurchil: _(Sindarin) Isildur's Heir.

_Máhanaxar: _(Quenya) Ring of Doom.

_Mellon nîn: _(Sindarin) My friend.

**A Note on the Game Played by Aragorn and Námo: **The game itself is taken from the famous 1851 game in London between Adolf Anderssen and Lionel Kieseritzky, appropriately (for this story) known as the 'Immortal Game' and can be 'played' online at www.chess.. Below is the actual game in its entirety. Readers unfamiliar with chess notation should consult any appropriate online website. An interesting annotated commentary of the Anderssen-Kieseritzky match can be found at . Click on "Instructions/Annotated Games".

1. e4 e5 2. f4 exf4 3. Bc4 Qh4+ 4. Kf1 b5 5. Bxb5 Nf6 6.Nf3 Qh6 7. d3 Nh5 8. Nh4 Qg5 9. Nf5 c6 10. g4 Nf6 11. Rg1 cxb5 12. h4 Qg6 13. h5 Qg5 14. Qfe Ng8 15. Bxf4 Qf6 16. Nc3 Bc5 17. Nd5 Qxb2 18. Bd6 Qxa1+ 19. Ke2 Bxg1 20. e5 Na6 21. Nxg7+ kd8. 22. Qf6+ Nxf6 23. Be7+ 1-0


	2. Chapter 2

**2: Ab 'Urth: Rendering Death and Forever With Each Breathing**

Legolas sat in the embrasure of the open window of the solar looking out, unmindful of the cold. Here in Emyn Arnen there was no snow as there would be in his adar's realm, but the wind blowing off the Anduin as it came down from the northwest was frigid nonetheless. He did not notice it. He was facing west, though he saw little of Minas Anor rising before him some miles away on the other side of the Anduin. The white stones of the city bled red in the light of the setting sun, but he paid little heed, for his mind and his féa were... elsewhere.

"Valar, Legolas! It's freezing in here."

Legolas turned to see Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, Lord of Emyn Arnen and Steward of Gondor, standing in the doorway, his expression at once exasperated and pitying. Legolas could take the exasperation, but not the pity. He turned away to look back out the window. "I hadn't noticed," he said quietly, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Faramir moved further into the room and went to the fireplace, kneeling down to tend to the fire which was nearly out. Only a few coals were still burning in the grate. It took little time for him to recover some flame and soon the chill that had been slowly turning the solar into a tomb was easing and the chamber began to warm.

"There, that's better," Faramir said, standing up and turning to his friend. Legolas had not moved from his position and Faramir resisted a sigh as he moved quietly (for a Mortal) to the window. "It's cold enough I deem that we might even see snow overnight," he opined, "though, it's not likely to stay. Still, the children will enjoy it while it lasts."

"I remember snow," Legolas said almost to himself without shifting his gaze. "It's white and cold and..." he furrowed his brow, then shook his head as if to clear it of the fog that seemed to be ever present in his mind these days.

Faramir laid a hand on the elf's shoulder, an intimacy Legolas would not have permitted before... before this. He still couldn't figure out what happened to him or why and no one would speak of it. It was so frustrating and he wanted to lash out at the world but didn't know how to go about it. He looked up at the Mortal, a quizzical expression in his eyes.

"I'm glad you've remembered something, mellon nîn," Faramir said solicitously, a sympathetic smile gracing his visage. "And yes, snow is indeed white and cold and other things beside. Perhaps if we have some this night the sight of it will trigger other memories for you."

Legolas nodded, though he was doubtful. It had been weeks since his... accident... and still little of his memory had returned. He only knew that he woke to find himself in the Steward's keeping at Emyn Arnen. Aragorn had returned to Minas Anor and Legolas had felt hurt for some reason at his friend's seeming abandonment. And why was he here in Emyn Arnen, he wondered, not for the first time, instead of in his own demesne of Ithilien-en-Edhil among his own people? Then there was the mystery of Glorfindel...

He sighed, feeling suddenly weary, weary as he had not felt since... well, he could not recall. He smiled grimly to himself at that thought as he looked at Faramir. "I apologize for inconveniencing you, Lord Faramir. I truly did not notice the cold."

"So I gathered," the Steward said, his face full of amusement. "And truly, I am not upset. I was just concerned for you when you did not appear at the dinner table."

Legolas gave the Man a puzzled look. "You could not have sent a servant to hie me to the table?"

"And would you have minded a mere servant, Legolas?" Faramir asked without rancor. "Nay, I deemed this one task mine to do. Now, will you come to sup, mellon nîn? Éowyn misses your company."

For a moment Legolas was tempted to refuse, but then a slight rumbling from his midriff silenced any excuses he had been ready to make. He gave Faramir a sheepish look and nodded, rising with unconscious grace. "Yes, I will come and sup with you and your lady wife... me-mellon nîn." If Faramir noticed, he gave no sign. Instead he smiled at the elf and gestured for Legolas to precede him out of the solar.

It did indeed snow that night. Legolas watched it softly falling from the same solar window, though, mindful of the concern the Mortals seemed to have for him, he kept the fire in the grate going through the night. He found he either had no need for sleep, or he slept for days. That was disconcerting to him, for he knew that he slept with his eyes closed and when he did awake it was usually to find Glorfindel sitting quietly beside his bed. The expression on the Elf-lord's face was unreadable to the younger elf, and that troubled him, though he could not say why.

He heard the door to the solar open and ignored it, so he was surprised to feel someone wrap a warm robe about his shoulders. Looking up he saw Glorfindel staring back, his eyes glittering in the moonless dark. Legolas glanced at what the other elf had put around his shoulders and recognized it as the red robe that he remembered being wrapped in when they were transporting him back to Emyn Arnen.

"You should not sit in the cold and the dark without some protection, child," Glorfindel said softly.

"It's neither cold nor dark for me," Legolas protested weakly, though he did not spurn the offer of the robe. Indeed, it was a deep source of comfort to him, and he welcomed it's warmth as he settled it further around his shoulders, turning from the view outside to look more directly at the other ellon who had taken a nearby seat. "Yet, I thank you for your... solicitousness, lord," he said.

Glorfindel smiled. "Such formality, Legolas. I expected better from you."

The words surprised and confused him and he didn't know how to respond. He was saved from having to comment by Glorfindel raising his hand. "Forgive me, mellon nîn," he said gently. "I did not mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset," Legolas objected, "just... confused."

"About what?"

"What happened to me?" he asked, appalled at the pleading he heard in his voice. "Why can I not remember? Wh-why did Aragorn...abandon me?"

Glorfindel was on his feet immediately and sitting beside Legolas on the windowseat, his arm around the younger ellon's shoulders. "Is that what you think, child? That Aragorn has abandoned you?"

"He left me here," Legolas replied somewhat reproachfully. "Why here? Why am I not with my own people?"

Glorfindel sighed. "It was not an easy decision to make, you must understand," he said with a rueful smile. "Unlike the others, I have had an experience similar to yours. I deemed it best that you be tended here away from the prying eyes of Aragorn's court and... from the uncomprehending elves of your demesne."

Legolas gave him a startled look. "Why would my people be uncomprehending? Uncomprehending of what?"

Glorfindel looked at him gravely yet with deep compassion. "Uncomprehending of the fact that you died, Legolas."

"Bu-but I didn't else I would not be here."

"But you did," Glorfindel rejoined gently. "And you are here because Lord Námo sent you back. You are here because Estel risked his own fëa to free yours."

Now Legolas found himself shaking for no reason and Glorfindel pulled the robe tighter around his shoulders. "How..."

"Hush now," Glorfindel said, "I think it time you slept again."

"I'm not sleepy!" Legolas protested even as he fought off a yawn.

"Are you not?" Glorfindel asked with a smile. "Then sit here and tell me what you remember of your dying." He pulled the ellon closer into his embrace.

Legolas reluctantly settled himself against Glorfindel's shoulder and whispered, "I remember nothing, except... except pain." He absently clutched at his middle and Glorfindel rocked him, humming softly until Legolas succumbed to sleep. Soon the ellon was nestled with his head in Glorfindel's lap while the older elf gazed out of the window and watched the snow continue to fall, never ceasing his humming of an ancient lullaby and stroking Legolas' hair as this most recent Reborn slept on.

Sometime just before dawn Legolas woke screaming. He was not sure why he was screaming, only that something terrified him as nothing in his life ever had. There was commotion all around him and voices, confused and angry sounding... no not angry, concerned, perhaps even afraid. Afraid of what, he didn't know. Perhaps of him. He wasn't sure. It was all so confusing. He felt strong arms hold him and someone calling his name and rocking him all at the same time and finally his screams ebbed away into mere whimpers and then the voice, a voice he did not recognize except in the deepest wells of his soul, bid him to open his eyes. He did so with some reluctance and discovered he was still in the solar and in Glorfindel's arms. Faramir was there also, and Éowyn, their expressions full of concern and pity. He hated the pity. He struggled to a sitting position and Glorfindel let him though he found himself too weak to sit up all the way and contented himself with leaning against Glorfindel's shoulder.

"What happened?" he asked hoarsely.

"You were in the throes of a nightmare," Glorfindel said, "and if I'm not mistaken you were dreaming of your Judgment."

Now Legolas sat up completely, shock and surprise written all over him. "My what!?" He noticed that both Faramir and Éowyn also looked surprised at Glorfindel's words. Faramir went to the door of the solar and opened it, speaking softly to someone or several someones (Legolas couldn't tell) before closing the door again. He returned to them. Éowyn had in the meantime put another log on the grate.

"I've ordered some hot food and beverage," Faramir told them. "It is nearly dawn so we might as well break our fast now." He looked down at the hastily drawn on breeches and bedrobe that covered his nakedness, then glanced at his wife who had stopped long enough to pull on a nightgown as well as a robe, offering the two elves a rueful smile. "Perhaps we should go and dress more appropriately."

Glorfindel laughed lightly and even Legolas managed a thin smile. "It matters not to us, Faramir," the elf from Imladris said, "but do what makes you and your wife more comfortable. Legolas and I will still be here when you return. I imagine that it will take some time for breakfast to arrive."

Faramir nodded and Éowyn rose from her seat. She leaned over and to Legolas' surprise planted a light kiss on his forehead. "The dawn approaches, mellon nîn," she said in what Legolas could only describe as her "mother voice" reminding him suddenly of his own naneth. "Fear not the night, for it has no hold on thee."

She stepped away and with short bows the two Mortals departed. Legolas looked at Glorfindel who sat so serenely and looking as pristine as if he'd just finished bathing. "I... I remember my naneth," he said, not sure why he said that when he should have been offering an apology, an apology he had gotten very good at saying over the last several weeks.

Glorfindel's expression never changed, though Legolas noticed his eyes brighten somewhat. "Good," he said softly. "That is a fair start."

"You said the nightmare was of my... my Judgment?" Legolas asked.

Glorfindel nodded. "If you are following the same pattern as others, including myself. Though normally, the memory of one's Judgment is one of the first to go and one of the last to return. In your case, though, I think the opposite may be happening."

"What do you mean?"

Glorfindel's expression went blank. "By all rights, Legolas, you should be sound asleep in Mandos, your memories of your life here in Middle-earth slowly being suppressed. You should be sleeping, my friend, and there should be at least one Maia standing guard over you as you do."

Legolas just stared at the other elf, feeling stunned, unable to respond. Glorfindel, however, continued to speak. "I think the process is being reversed. Estel told me that Lord Námo promised that your memories would be restored to you."

"But they haven't," Legolas protested. "At least not many," he amended. "I don't think I even remembered who I was for several days after we got here."

Glorfindel nodded. "Yes, I noticed that, which I thought rather odd as that is the only memory that is not taken from those who reside in Mandos, the memory of ourselves, or at least our names. I knew nothing about being a lord of Gondolin, for instance, or that Ecthelion of the Fountain was my closest friend there, only that I was Glorfindel, nothing more."

Legolas thought about that for a moment and sighed. "Perhaps the circumstances are so different with me that nothing is certain."

"You may be correct in that and we will have to work our way through it as best we may," Glorfindel nodded in agreement, "but you are mistaken about one thing."

"What's that?"

"There is one thing that is certain — you are alive."

To that Legolas had no rejoinder. He was saved from thinking of one by the door opening once again to find that Faramir and Éowyn were properly dressed and a couple of servants were there with breakfast. He wasn't sure he really was hungry but he knew from long experience that these three who were his caregivers would not take 'No' for an answer, so he smiled gamely and chewed on toast and ate the porridge set before him in an absentminded way as he thought over what he and Glorfindel had been discussing.

No one else mentioned the nightmare or anything else more foreboding than whether the snow that was still falling would hamper Aragorn's return from the city, for, Legolas learned, Aragorn was due to return that very day.

"He is?" he asked, feeling somewhat elated by the knowledge that his friend was coming.

"Aye," Faramir replied. "He had to return to Minas Anor to give the Council news of our little war and to decide the fate of the ringleaders of that fiasco. He said he would be as quick about it as he could be and then return here to see how you fare." The Prince of Ithilien gave Legolas a brief smile. "I suspect that Arwen will be with him as well."

But if they were hoping to get a positive reaction out of him at the news they were disappointed. Legolas dropped the piece of toast he had been about to bite into, and they could see what color he had in his face flee as he started moaning. "No, ohnoohnoohno..."

"Legolas," Glorfindel demanded sharply, "stop that at once."

His tone was so commanding that even the two Mortals stopped what they were doing and just stared at the erstwhile Lord of Gondolin. Legolas ceased his own moaning and just sat there, waiting, trying to remember to breathe.

Glorfindel, for his part, did not relent, but kept his voice stern. "Why do you cringe at Arwen's name?"

Legolas felt himself blinking rapidly several times before he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. "I loved her but she chose Aragorn over me," and for the life of him he could not fathom if he was angry or pleased by that announcement.

Faramir and Éowyn exchanged glances that proved indecipherable to Legolas. Glorfindel's expression never changed but something deep in his eyes did. "I see," he said softly. "Well, you're all good friends now, so I wouldn't worry about it." The matter-of-fact delivery of that statement was like being drenched in cold water and Legolas came almost clearly awake for the first time since his return from death.

"Are you sure?" he asked somewhat hesitantly.

"Yes, I am," was the answer. "Now eat your porridge before it gets cold."

Aragorn and Arwen did indeed arrive later that morning, a few hours later than they had planned. "The snow lies heaviest on this side of the Anduin," the king said as he shook out his cloak once the two of them were inside the keep. Faramir and Éowyn were there to greet their lieges as hosts. Glorfindel stood to one side, a small smile on his face as he watched the four friends interact. Legolas was there as well, though he stood back, suddenly feeling unsure and shy. Here was his friend, his first friend among Mortals, but he was uncertain how to act around him. His memories of their times together were fractured and cloudy. Then, there was Arwen...

"I've ordered hot baths for you both," Éowyn said with a smile, interrupting Legolas' train of thought. "When you are less frozen, we will have lunch."

Arwen smiled at the younger woman. "A warm bath sounds wonderful. I know Estel was complaining of the cold all the way here."

"I was not," Aragorn exclaimed, giving Faramir and Legolas a wink. "I was merely commenting on _how _cold it was for this time of year. Believe me, my dear, I've experienced colder weather than this in my days."

Arwen gave him a serene smile. "Whereas, I've never been cold in my life."

The absolute smugness of those words caused Legolas to laugh out loud. The others looked at him in surprise and delight. Both Aragorn and Arwen smiled warmly at him. Aragorn even went so far as to take him into his embrace and hug him, a liberty Legolas was sure he normally would never allow, but at that moment it felt right.

"I'm glad to see you are recovering, mellon nîn," Aragorn said softly into his ear.

Legolas shook his head. "My wounds are healed but not my memories," he confessed as he stepped out of Aragorn's embrace, looking suddenly sad. "I only remembered my naneth this morning." He gave them a pleading look. "Why did I remember my adar almost from the first but not my naneth?"

The plaintive tone was that of an elfling, lost and confused, and the Mortals were all near to tears at the sound of it. "I do not know, Legolas," Aragorn whispered forlornly.

Arwen came to him and smiled gently. "Is it not well that you have remembered her at last, though?"

Legolas sighed and nodded, recognizing the truth of her words. "Yes. Thank you."

"Come," Faramir said then, gesturing to servants, "let us get you dried and warm. Lunch will be ready in an hour."

With that, the King and Queen of the United Realm took leave of their hosts and retired to freshen up after their journey. Legolas wandered away, lost in thought. When Glorfindel found him sometime later he was standing in the deserted rose garden, still as a statue, covered with snow, apparently staring at a pine tree. Glorfindel could see the other ellon's expression of pain and wondered what the child was experiencing now.

"Legolas," Glorfindel said softly, not wishing to startle the younger elf, "it's time for lunch. Come inside and dry off."

Legolas slowly turned and looked blankly at the older elf. "It was snowing when I... died," he said tonelessly.

Glorfindel resisted a sigh and nodded. "So I've been told. I did not arrive until sometime later and by then the snow had stopped and the sun had come out."

"You... you were Singing," Legolas said somewhat hesitantly, not sure if his memory was correct.

Glorfindel nodded, idly brushing snow from his forehead. "A Song of Power. Finrod taught me, though I've had no need to use it until now."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Then I suppose I have Lord Finrod to thank for my life as well."

Glorfindel shook his head. "You have Estel to thank, child," he reminded the other elf gently. "It was his love for you, his refusal to let you go without a fight, that made it possible for you to live. I was merely the instrument of the Valar's will in honoring Lord Námo's promise to the King of Gondor and Arnor that a way would be found to save your hröa after your fëa was returned to it." He blew a breath at an errant snowflake that had been threatening to land on his nose and Legolas smiled, shaking himself free of the snow that had gathered on him.

"I think we should get you inside, my lord Glorfindel," he said with a wicked grin. "You look positively cold."

"I've never been cold in my life," Glorfindel said with a huff, allowing Legolas to take his arm and lead him indoors. "Except that time crossing the Helcaraxë, though Turgon kept insisting that it was all in our minds."

"And was it?"

"The only thing in my mind during that crossing was how much I really detested Turgon's cheerfulness," Glorfindel quipped and was awarded with peals of laughter as the two elves joined their friends in the dining room.

By the time lunch ended the snow had stopped and the sun was peeking out from behind ragged clouds. The four Mortals and their elven friends retired to the same solar that Legolas had been haunting these last few days. Glorfindel had quietly filled Aragorn and Arwen in on the events of the previous day and the two royals eyed their friend sorrowfully. Legolas pretended not to notice, sitting in the embrasure and staring out the window. After a while though he turned back to view the room. It was a scene of quiet domesticity: Arwen and Éowyn sat together in front of the fire with embroidery in their hands, softly talking. Aragorn was sitting with Faramir at a table with a chessboard between them. Glorfindel stood behind the Prince of Ithilien, an interested observer. The two Mortals were not playing though. Aragorn apparently was showing them the moves of a game and the sight of the pieces brought Legolas to his feet, though only Arwen and Glorfindel noticed.

"...so, then Lord Námo said, 'let us begin' and..." Aragorn was saying and Legolas gave an inarticulate cry that froze everyone but Glorfindel on the spot. The Balrog-slayer was instantly at Legolas' side, divining what might be happening.

"Don't fight it, child," he said softly as he took Legolas into his arms. The stricken look on the younger elf's face was almost more than the others could bear, but Glorfindel simply held the ellon closer. "Let the memories come, Legolas. Let them come, best beloved. You are not alone in this."

The younger elf gave another cry as something inside him opened and the memories began to flow...

0-0-0-0

**All words are Sindarin unless otherwise noted.**

_Ab 'Urth: _After Death; the Sindarin version of the Latin _Post Mortem_.

_Adar:_ Father.

_Mellon nîn: _My friend.

_Ithilien-en-Edhil: _Ithilien of the Elves, Legolas's fiefdom to distinguish it from Faramir's princedom.

_Helcaraxë: _(Quenya) The Grinding Ice.

**Note: **The chapter title is taken from ee cumming's poem, 'Somewhere I Have Never Traveled'.


	3. Chapter 3

**3: Ab 'Urth: Being Dead Is Hard Work**

Legolas felt nothing at first, but somehow the sight of himself impaled on that stupid branch reminded him that he should be feeling _something_. He managed to gasp out a few words of protest at the pain he was just now experiencing before all went dark, though not silent.

"Legolas Thranduilion!"

It was a summons that he found he could not ignore, seemingly emanating from his very fëa. Then, he was no longer hanging off a tree below the southern pass of the Ephel Dúath but was now standing before a set of mithril and gold doors that opened silently at his approach. He felt no fear, only curiosity as he stepped across the threshold. Two steps in the doors closed silently behind him and he was in near darkness. There was a dim light that was everywhere and nowhere and the oddness of it all began to impinge on his consciousness. That's when fear began to outweigh the curiosity and he turned back towards the doors only to discover that there weren't any, only a blank wall. He was staring at the wall rather stupidly when someone spoke from behind him.

"Ah, Thranduilion, so nice of you to drop in. I was sure I was going to have an argument on my hands trying to reel you in."

The Voice was almost jovial in tone, though there was an underlying sense of darkness to it that made Legolas not only shiver but actually cringe as he came to several disturbing conclusions. He slowly turned, wishing he had his bow and white-hilted knives but a quick glance showed him that none of his weapons had followed him to... well, wherever this was.

"Now, Legolas, you know perfectly well where you are," the Voice chided.

And when Legolas looked upon the Person who had spoken he knew full well where he was. Before him was one who appeared to be an Elf, but his eyes were too old and knowing for him to be one of the Firstborn. He was seated on a throne that oddly enough reminded Legolas of his adar's throne, though there were obvious differences. For one thing, this throne was carved from stone rather than wood. The Person himself was dressed in somber shades of forest green and silver grey that reminded Legolas of his home in Eryn Lasgalen. His dark hair was elf-braided in a pattern unfamiliar to him and crowned with a wreath of balsam mixed with holly and winterberries. That seemed rather out of character for the Lord of Mandos. Legolas must have shown his surprise because Lord Námo actually smiled.

"It is Yule after all, child," the Vala said with a glint of humor in his eyes.

"I'm dead," was all Legolas could manage to say and he wondered at that. Could the dead suffer shock? Perhaps that was what was wrong with him, he was still in shock. He had the feeling he should be on his knees but in truth he had knelt to only one person in his life, and this Person wasn't he.

Námo's expression turned more sympathetic. "Yes, you are, child, and yes, you are in shock, and no, I don't expect you to kneel to me."

Now Legolas just stared at the Vala with his mouth agape. "How..."

"Neither here nor there, Legolas," the Lord of Mandos said dismissively. "Now, let us begin."

Those words were mildly spoken, but the underlying tone and the dark look in the Vala's eyes unnerved Legolas just enough that he found himself slowly backing away. Not that he got very far as there was the annoying matter of a wall right behind him. Then, to his utter horror, he felt himself sliding into a crouching position with his arms around his knees and then he was weeping, though why he thought he should be weeping he did not know. Only... the fact that he was dead, was that not reason enough?

Námo never moved, sitting there with a patience that would have shamed granite, until Legolas' weeping stilled and he stopped rocking himself. "Are you ready, child?" came the soft question and the compassion that he heard in Námo's voice was enough to calm the elf and bring him to a sense of himself. Yes, he was ready. Was he not a prince and a warrior? Had he not faced the minions of the Enemy all these long years of his life? Young he might be in the eyes of his people, yet he was not without wisdom, courage or fortitude. He was dead. Simple as that. Time to move on.

"Indeed," Námo said with a slight grin. "I do have other appointments you know. You're not the only person who's died today."

That sounded so like his adar, well, except for the dead part, but really... Legolas felt himself smiling as he stood up and squared his shoulders. "I am ready, my lord," he said softly with as much dignity as he could muster, remembering that dead though he might be he was still a Prince of Eryn Lasgalen.

Námo nodded approvingly and gestured for Legolas to step closer to the throne, which he did with just the slightest hesitation. "So tell me, Thranduilion," Námo asked with a faint smile on his lips, "whatever were you thinking, getting yourself impaled on a tree branch of all things?"

Legolas felt himself stiffen at the implied insult and then felt himself going red in embarrassment. "It's not something I planned, lord," he replied.

"No," Námo agreed, "the manner of one's death usually isn't something one plans in advance. I'm sure your adar will not find it as amusing as I do, though."

"M-my adar?" Legolas gave the Lord of Mandos a quizzical look, not sure where this was going. He hoped his adar would be upset that he died, not in the manner of his death, embarrassing as it was. Maybe Aragorn would... er... shade the truth a bit for his friend's sake. He sighed.

Námo meanwhile was studying the young elf before him. He saw one who had much potential to lead the way in the distant future to help bridge the gap between the Firstborn and their estranged brethren among the Secondborn. Even now, that estrangement was widening in spite of Aragorn and Arwen. Once those two were dead the estrangement would continue until future generations of humans would scoff at the existence of any rational species but their own. Legolas Thranduilion was poised to help heal that rift however this all turned out.

"Do you blame Aragorn for being here?"

The question caught Legolas off-guard and it took him a moment to register what was being asked him. "Blame? Why would I blame him for my own stupidity?"

"Well, it's a legitimate question, child," the Vala replied reasonably. "Most people are quick to blame others for getting killed. I needed to know what your feelings towards your own death were. All part of the process, you see."

"Not really," Legolas said with a shake of his head.

"Well, neither here nor there," Námo admitted. "Now, my next question is..."

"Er.. excuse me," Legolas interjected somewhat hesitantly.

"Yes?" Námo's expression was totally unreadable to the elf.

"It's just that... um... are you sure this is how a... er... Judgment is supposed to go?"

For a very long moment there was a very pregnant silence. Finally, the Lord of Mandos spoke, his voice like silk over iron. "Well, every Judgment is different, as unique as the individual undergoing it," Námo conceded. "Is there something about this particular Judgment that doesn't meet with your approval?"

Now Legolas was totally at a loss. He stared at the Lord of Mandos feeling suddenly lightheaded. He had to swallow a couple of times before he could answer. "It's just that I... well, I thought it would be more... er... terrifying."

"Ah..." Námo said, something dark glittering behind his eyes that made Legolas wish he had never opened his mouth. Why was he complaining about his Judgment? As these things went, his adar's interrogations whenever he had committed some minor offense as an elfling were more frightening than this. "Child," the Vala said softly, "you have not yet begun to appreciate the terror you are about to experience."

He gestured and Legolas was suddenly kneeling before the Doomsman's throne, his head held firmly between Námo's hands. The Lord of Mandos looked down at him and the sadness mingled with compassion that Legolas saw in his eyes made him gasp and then he suddenly knew what true terror was when Námo bent down and kissed him on the forehead with the gentleness of a lover. He stiffened, his eyes going wide as suddenly doors in his mind he never knew existed opened and his entire life lay before him — all of it.

He thought he screamed then, but was never sure afterwards. He stopped seeing anything but what his mind showed him, his mind and Lord Námo, for the Vala was ever there beside him, guiding him, questioning him, and the questions were absolutely brutal in their clarity and his answers were perforce equally brutal in their simplicity and truthfulness. He thought he started weeping at one point and even struggled out of Námo's hold when a particularly vicious memory concerning betrayal and loss reared it's ugly head and he found himself cowering against the throne, clutching at Námo's feet as if to an anchor. Námo said nothing, merely reaching down and placing a hand gently on the elf's head, lending him his strength to get through this worst memory, a memory Legolas had studiously forgotten for several centuries.

Eventually, the final memory, the one detailing his last moments in Life, passed before him and then there was nothing. He opened eyes he never knew he had closed to find himself huddled at Námo's feet like some favorite hound and slowly, achingly, he rose to a sitting position. He felt weak, wrung out, and his thoughts now were hard to pin down. He also found it hard to focus on anything for very long. He felt, rather than saw, Námo rise from his throne and he forced himself to look up. Námo had stepped away and was now looking down at him, his expression again unreadable.

"Was that terrifying enough for you, Thranduilion?" he asked dispassionately and Legolas could only nod. That of course was a mistake because suddenly everything started to spin. He moaned as he slid sideways, barely registering the fact that the Lord of Mandos had stooped down and lifted him gently into his arms.

"I think it's time for you to rest," Námo said, and Legolas felt himself being lowered upon a couch that had not been there before. Soon a light blanket was being pulled over him and he resisted a yawn. "You've had a rather busy day of it," Námo said as he knelt beside the couch and brushed a hand through Legolas' hair. Námo smiled encouragingly at him and Legolas felt warm and comforted as he felt himself drifting. "Sleep now, child, and when you awaken all will be different," Námo murmured. Legolas gave another yawn and snuggled further into the blanket and closed his eyes. "Yes," the Vala whispered as he leaned over and kissed the ellon softly on the cheek, "all will be different indeed..."

0-0-0-0

Legolas came to himself to find that he was lying on the floor of the solar. His head was in Arwen's lap and a blanket had been thrown over his body. Arwen was softly brushing a hand through his hair. He looked up at her and she smiled. "Welcome back, mellon nîn," she whispered.

He attempted to move then but someone pushed him back down and he saw that Glorfindel was kneeling beside him. "You are well, child?" he asked solicitously.

The Silvan prince wasn't sure how to answer that just yet. He allowed his eyes to roam and saw that both Aragorn and Faramir were sitting on the windowseat, their expressions ones of concern mingled with relief. Éowyn, he noticed was nowhere in sight but then he felt someone kneeling at his head and rolling his eyes he saw the Princess of Ithilien handing Glorfindel a goblet.

"Arwen and I will hold him up," she was saying to the elf, "while you give him some wine."

Glorfindel nodded and in seconds Legolas felt himself being raised far enough that he could accept the goblet, welcoming the wine warming both his hröa and fëa. He noticed that his throat felt raw when he swallowed and wondered if he'd been screaming. When he had had his fill, they laid him back. Glorfindel gave him a penetrating look. "What do you remember?" he asked and Legolas was surprised at the directness of the question, but answered just as directly.

"Everything," he said, "my entire life. I remember it all."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "Hmm... interesting."

"What? What's interesting?" Legolas demanded as he attempted to sit up. This time no one stopped him and with a little help from the others he found himself sitting in a chair beside the grate, welcoming the warmth of the fire even as he had welcomed the wine.

Glorfindel took the chair next to him. "Remembering one's Judgment rarely involves remembering one's entire life," he explained. "That is something that happens over time and I think some memories never resurface for some reason. But you are a rather unique case, my friend," he added with a smile. "I think remembering your Judgment was meant to be the key to unlocking the rest of your memories."

Legolas studied his friends, seeing the love and concern in their eyes, and found he had to look away. For a while no one spoke, the others willing to wait for Legolas to speak first. "It was... terrifying," he finally admitted in a whisper.

"Yes, I imagine it was," Glorfindel conceded with a knowing smile. "Judgment usually is, though I suspect yours wasn't quite as painful as mine, not being a rebel Noldo."

"Painful enough, I assure you," Legolas said with some heat.

"But now it's over," Arwen interjected.

But Legolas shook his head. "One thing is missing."

"What is that?" Aragorn asked from the windowseat.

Legolas gave his friend a piercing look. "The truth of how you rescued me."

Aragorn stared at the elf for several minutes before nodding. "When you have rested somewhat from this ordeal, I will tell you about a rather special game of chess that I played with the Lord of Mandos."

Legolas nodded, satisfied, and was about to make another comment to Glorfindel when the door to the solar slammed open and, turning, they all saw Gimli standing there, snow-covered with his favorite axe in his hand. His eyes blazed with frustration and weariness and Legolas wondered if the stupid dwarf had _run _all the way from Aglarond. Before anyone could utter a word, Gimli strode into the room with a 'Hrumph' and stood belligerently before them.

"Now then, what's this I hear about my elf dying?" he demanded glaring at them all. "He doesn't look dead to me."

"His elf?" Aragorn whispered loudly to Faramir who was grinning widely. "I thought Legolas was my elf."

At that Legolas started laughing, suddenly glad that he was there to be anyone's elf. He caught Glorfindel's eye and the Reborn Balrog-slayer nodded knowingly and soon everyone, except Gimli who was demanding to be let in on the joke, was laughing as well.

Well after midnight, Legolas sat once again in the windowseat of the solar all alone, for everyone else had finally retired. He had promised them, especially Glorfindel and Gimli, that he would not stay up all night, and in truth he was actually looking forward to sleeping in his bed. He was not sleepy yet, and so he stared out the window, looking at the stars shining cold and brilliant in the night sky, thinking about his Judgment and what he had endured . Suppressing a yawn as he drew the red robe around him, he came to the conclusion that being dead was hard work. He would much rather be alive.

That was his last thought as sleep overtook him.

0-0-0-0

Lord Námo, sitting on his throne from within his Halls, looked out towards Middle-earth and saw Thranduilion nestle further into his robe and smiled. Legolas would come to Aman one day but not by way of Mandos.

"Was his death a mistake, then?" Vairë asked him.

Námo looked at his spouse standing next to him and gave her a smile reserved only for her and she returned that smile with one of her own. He held out his hand and she settled on his lap, idly brushing her fingers through his hair, now bare of wreath or crown. He held her in his embrace, gently stroking her thigh.

"No death is a mistake, my love," he said quietly, "but I knew that Legolas was not meant to remain here in Mandos."

"Rather a unique situation, then," Vairë stated. "I wonder what the purpose was?"

"Perhaps its only purpose was to teach young Thranduilion to watch where he's going," Námo responded with a wicked smile. "Getting skewered by a tree branch... he's never going to live that down, you know."

Vairë laughed lightly. "Poor ellon," she said. "He's such a dear." She reached down and gave her spouse a less than chaste kiss. For a time neither was interested in continuing the conversation, but finally Vairë pulled away just enough to lay her head on Námo's shoulder. "He's going to be so lost when Gimli dies."

"Yes," Námo conceded. "That, of course, cannot be helped, but I think there will be those here in Aman who will help him through the darkness."

Vairë sat up and gazed deeply into her lover's amaranthine eyes. "Including you?" she asked softly.

Námo nodded solemnly. "Including me." Then he smiled again, a smile she had come to recognize as a sign of mischief. "Perhaps I'll challenge him to a game of chess."

Their laughter was loud and long and the denizens of Mandos stopped their play for a while to revel in the joy of it.

0-0-0-0

**All words are Quenya.**

_Fëa: _Soul, spirit.

_Hröa: _Body.

**Note: **The chapter title is taken from Rainer Maria Rilke's _Duino Elegies: The First Elegy_:

"...And being dead is hard work

and full of retrieval before one can gradually feel

a trace of eternity..."


End file.
